As Simple As Hunger
by EudaimonArisornae
Summary: As Sanji continues to experience negative side effects from the time he spent on Momoiro Island, Zoro makes a suggestion that leaves him both shocked and frustrated. Post-time skip. Sanji x Zoro. (Bonus chapter included: Zoro's side of the story.)
1. Chapter 1

Title: As Simple As Hunger

Rating: M

Characters: Sanji/Zoro

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.

Warning: Post-time skip. Explicit content.

_Huge thanks to calloutyoru. Read her stories!_

* * *

"Drinking alone in the dark doesn't really seem to fit your character," Zoro's deep voice echoed across the empty room.

Sanji, who was lighting a cigarette, glanced in the direction of the voice. The brief flicker of the flame temporarily illuminated his face. Though his expression appeared neither surprised nor pleased that the swordsman had shown himself before him, Sanji was inwardly startled by the other man's presence.

Zoro's presence made him realize he had lost track of how long he had been sitting alone at the far end of the table in the dining hall. At first, he had noted that some of his other crewmates were moving about on the ship, but one by one, they had stopped stirring. After awhile, he became lost in his own thoughts and stopped paying attention to his surroundings.

The cook gritted his teeth as the swordsman peered at him with a blank expression he found endlessly annoying; moreover, he was annoyed with himself for letting Zoro slink in under his radar.

Zoro continued to study him in silence, arms crossed in front of him, idly leaning against the frame of the large doorway. As the seconds ticked by, a curled eyebrow started to twitch, and Sanji glared at the green-haired man. Although it was his intention to ignore him, his patience finally snapped.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice dripping with annoyance, clenching his jaw as he spoke.

"Nothing," Zoro replied. His eye wandered to a bottle of bourbon positioned in front of the blonde man. "Though, I guess I wouldn't mind a glass." Decidedly, he stepped into the dining hall.

"Tch, take it and leave, then. I'm not in the mood for you," Sanji warned, giving him a cautionary gaze as he slid the bottle forward.

As he pulled himself up to the table and grabbed an empty glass, a jesting grin crossed Zoro's face. Sanji instantly knew the expression was a prelude to antagonism. Bracing himself, the cook took a long swig from his own drink.

"Ah, I guess things didn't go so well with that seal-woman," he commented as he poured the amber liquid into his glass.

"What the hell is a seal-woman?" Sanji barked, slamming his cup down on the table with a loud _thud_.

"That woman you were hanging all over. She sounded like a seal," Zoro explained shortly, leaning back and resting his arms behind his head.

Sanji stared at him incredulously. "She had a _unique _laugh," he protested. "Don't insult a beautiful woman like that! …And why the hell are you sitting down?!"

Although he nodded as though he was taking note of the other man's words, Zoro made no point of actually leaving the table. He leisurely sipped his drink, settling back in the large dining chair. Angrily, Sanji leaned back in his own chair—considerably _less_ relaxed than the swordsman—and puffed on his cigarette in annoyance. The two men sat in silence for some time, glowering at each other.

Zoro finally broke the silence. "This is too warm," he said, starring at his glass and swishing the dark liquid gloomily.

"It's not warm, it's room temperature."

"It's a drink. It needs ice."

Sanji's eyebrow twitched again. "This is bourbon, not whiskey or scotch. If it's cold, you'll miss all of the rich, subtle flavors."

Zoro took another sip, his brow slightly furrowed. "It's still too damn warm."

As irritated as he was, Sanji could not help himself when he saw someone unhappy with their food or drink. Before he realized what he was doing, his host-like nature got the best of him, and he jumped out of his seat and snatched the glass out of Zoro's hands. He walked into the kitchen and tossed a few cubes in the glass with a noisy _clink_.

Returning to the table, Sanji slammed the now-chilled beverage in front of him and poured a bit more of the bourbon in the glass to top it off.

"I thought you said I had to drink it warm," Zoro commented antagonistically.

"You're the one complaining it needed to be cold!" Sanji snapped. As annoyed as he was with Zoro, he was more furious at himself for not trying harder to push him away.

"So, what happened with the seal-woman?" Zoro asked bluntly, leaning forward to listen.

"None of your business," Sanji hissed in reply. "Don't you have something better to do right now?"

"Oi, I'm just trying to make sure you're okay," Zoro said, a bit mockingly.

Sanji wanted to spring up from his seat and launch his foot toward the green-haired man's infuriatingly smug face, but before he could stand, an uncharacteristic wave of exhaustion passed over him. The events of the day had just been too much to deal with. With a heavy sigh, he slumped back into his seat and set his elbows on the table, resting his head on his hands. His cigarette, now barely more than a stub, hung dangerously close to his sleeve.

For a moment, a flicker of something other than antagonism crossed Zoro's face. "Oi, seriously, did something happen?"

With a defeated sigh, Sanji reached forward to smush his cigarette butt in a dangerously full ashtray. "Tch, more like something _didn't_ happen," he replied with frustration, snatching another cigarette from his pocket. "Or maybe what happened is exactly what you'd expect."

Zoro pondered for a moment. "I actually don't know _what _to expect, thinking about you alone with a woman."

"Don't think about me alone with a woman, you pervert," Sanji sputtered.

"I wasn't trying to do it because I wanted to!" Zoro snapped in reply. "I was just responding to your damn comment!"

Sanji furrowed his brow as he rubbed his temple, his irritation mounting. "Why do you say you don't know what to expect?"

"Because you act like a damned idiot in front of women."

Zoro probably expected another biting comment, but instead, Sanji just sighed. "I actually used to be able to make a woman swoon, you know."

"I don't remember ever seeing that."

Sanji glared at him for a moment. "Look, I know… I know how I act sometimes," he faltered, obviously having a great difficulty in finding his words. "But no matter what, when I was alone with a woman, I really could keep myself under control."

"That's a strange way to refer to control," Zoro interjected.

"I mean under control _enough. _Women are kind, gentle creatures who are willing to overlook a few shortcomings. They want to be made to feel beautiful and loved, after all. But there's a limit to what they're willing to forgive. They won't overlook a man who acts like a... a panting dog."

Zoro raised an eyebrow at him. If he had any additional mocking comments to make, he kept them to himself.

Wordlessly, Sanji sat up, set down his glass, and started to unbutton his black suit coat.

"Oi, what do you think you're doing?" Zoro asked with alarm, instinctively sliding his chair back a few inches.

The blonde man glared at him, unfastening the last button and removing the coat. Yet even in the dim light, the dark stain on the front of his pale blue shirt was obvious.

Unable to help himself, Zoro let out a mirthful laugh.

"Yeah, a shitty nosebleed," Sanji muttered, throwing the jacket at a nearby chair angrily. "A shitty damn nosebleed."

"A naked woman was just too much to handle, huh?" Zoro asked, still chuckling mercilessly.

"That's not the worst of it," the blonde man slumped in his chair and buried his face in his hands. "She hadn't even taken off a single piece of clothing yet."

"So she didn't want to have a one-night stand with a pervert," Zoro surmised.

"Don't call it a 'one-night stand!'" he said with a glare. "To call spending an evening with a gorgeous woman something so vulgar... It was going to be something far more beautiful than that."

Zoro snorted. "If it's one night and you're not going to see her again, it's a one-night stand, no matter how _beautiful_ you try to make it seem," he said, putting a sarcastic emphasis on the word.

"Oh, but you don't understand how beautiful it would have been!" Sanji burst out, missing the swordman's point. "What a beauty she was… Long, flowing hair, golden like saffron. Porcelain skin. A body that men would surely give their lives for, just to touch for the briefest of moments…"

"You'll die of blood loss if you keep this up," Zoro interrupted flatly.

He opened his mouth to retort, but an uncertain feeling came over him. He reached up to his nose. A surprised expression crossed his face, followed by an angry scowl. "Dammit!" he cursed, jumping out of his seat to grab a tissue; it was another bloody nose.

Zoro let out a low chuckle. However, when Sanji returned to his seat, his demeanor had shifted to downright melancholy.

"This might be it for me," he said heavily.

"Don't be so dramatic."

The blonde man looked down at the ground, his eyes enshrouded in darkness. "That shitty island ruined me. I thought it would get better as time passed, but it's already been so long."

Zoro raised an eyebrow. Sanji rarely alluded to his time on Momoiro Island anymore, now that his erratic behavior had mostly returned to normal. Indeed, these days, even Nami only elicited the cook's typical starry-eyed expression and fluttery language. That he was admitting he was still struggling with the trauma caused from his time there meant he was in a far worse state than Zoro first assessed.

With a heavy sigh, Zoro downed the last sip of his drink and set his empty glass on the table. "It's only been a few months. That's hardly long."

"Ah, maybe you're right. It's just been _so long _for me now, I can't really take it." His tone made it apparent that the words "so long" were not referring to the time he had been off the newkama island.

"Oi, that's a little bit more than I wanted to know," Zoro smirked, refilling his glass. He topped off Sanji's while he was at it.

"Well it's the damn truth!" Sanji shouted at him, snatching the glass and taking a long sip.

Zoro looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Couldn't you just try to go after uglier women?"

"Tch, that's so hard," Sanji shook his head, rubbing his temples again. "Every woman has something beautiful about her, no matter how unattractive she may be as a whole."

The green-haired pirate narrowed his eye at him. "Is that really all it might take?"

He hung his head in his hands. "I don't know. Probably," he said with exasperation.

"Then what about men?"

"NO!" Sanji shouted, recoiling from the suggestion, a look of horror on his face. "I was constantly chased by men for two solid years! I would never even think about it… Absolutely not!"

Zoro shook his head. "Not_ those_ men. Men who aren't trying to be like women."

"How does that make any difference?" Sanji glared at him, his mortified expression turned hostile.

"You can't get with a woman because you act like a damned idiot around them. You can't stand newkama because they're trying to look and act just like the women driving you crazy. Doesn't leave a whole lot of other options, really," Zoro answered seriously, in a surprising moment of insight.

Sanji returned to resting his head on his hands, covering his eyes. "If you're just going to tease me, then fuck off. I don't know why I thought it would do me any good talking about a serious problem with you," Sanji sighed.

"It was a serious question, though."

"There's no way 'what about men?' is a serious question!" he barked, jumping up from his seat in outrage.

The swordsman shrugged and leaned back in his seat, once again resting his arms behind his head. "If women are too exciting, it just seemed like the only other option."

"It's _not_ an option," Sanji said adamantly.

Zoro shrugged again, leaned forward to down the remaining contents of his glass, and rose to his feet. "Then take care of it yourself and quit complaining."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: As Simple As Hunger

Rating: M

Characters: Sanji/Zoro

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.

Warning: Post-time skip. Explicit content.

_Huge thanks to calloutyoru.  
_

* * *

Before Zoro had intruded on his sulking, Sanji had felt depressed. Now alone again, he began to feel a rising anxiety in the pit of his stomach that he stubbornly refused to acknowledge. The cook had been quite satisfied with the idea of wallowing in his misery, drinking until he could no longer see straight, and stumbling off to bed.

Yet since Zoro had left the table, the drink had become distasteful to him. Perhaps the knot in his stomach was ruining his desire to consume anything beyond nicotine smoke—a theory that the ever-growing pile of cigarette butts in front of him seemed to support.

He had never—absolutely _never—_thought of men in _that _way before, but now that the idea had been planted in his head, scenarios were sprouting in his mind like noxious weeds.

As his mind uncontrollably meandered along the concept, Sanji began to notice the uncanny similarities between the sexual tension he felt when he was alone with a woman and the tension he often felt when he was fighting—at least, when he fought _certain_ people. The neurons firing in his brain, screaming euphoria, making him feel pleasure even at things that should cause pain.

And yet, unquestionably, it was not every battle that made him feel that way. Just certain moments, with certain people... _With certain men_, he thought with dismay, his mouth twisting into a deep frown.

He reached for another cigarette and realized his pack was empty. Frowning even more deeply, he stood up to go get more from his room. He also made a snap decision that he was done with his bourbon for the night, recognizing he had nothing more than a buzz left from his heavy drinking and that it was unlikely he would catch back up. With astonishing dexterity and swiftness, he removed the glasses and bottle from the table, emptied the overflowing ashtray, and cleaned the table so that no one would ever know he had spent most of his night trying to drown his sorrows there.

_No one except for that shitty marimo_, he thought. His brow twitched at the thought of the green-haired man and his stupid, smug expression.

As he stepped outside for a brief moment so he could make his way back to his room, he could not help but glance up at the Crow's Nest. He was surprised to see that the lights were still on.

_That idiot probably just fell asleep with them on_, he thought, grimacing.

Alone in his room, the _urge_ felt greater than it had when Sanji was in a more public place on the ship. His mind first drifted back to the bubbly blonde woman who he had nearly spent the night with. She was indeed quite charming, and the type who, with the slightest flutter of her dazzling eyelashes, could make his legs turn to flimsy rubber while other places on his body grew painfully hard.

If only his nose had not started to gush blood, she could have been in his arms right now. Just the thought of her naked body in front of him, which he was certain was absolutely spectacular, made the trickle start again, and made his member begin to rise to attention.

"Dammit, not again. I just changed my damn shirt," he muttered under his breath. With dismay, he pressed a handkerchief to his nose, careful to keep the cloth away from his burning cigarette.

It was a truly miserable state, his erection painfully encaged in his pants while he was clutching at his nose like a snot-nosed brat. "_Can_ I even take care of this by myself right now?" he muttered under his breath angrily.

Quickly taking the final drag from his cigarette, he decided to try. One hand still holding the handkerchief to his face, he used his free hand to unfasten his pants and touch himself. Even though it was only his own hand, a small, low whimper escaped from his mouth as soon as he made contact.

He started to move his hand in a rhythmic thrust, letting his mind drift beyond the knockout blonde who he had been trying to sleep with to all the other beautiful women he could imagine, some real, and some only existing in his wildest fantasies.

There were so many women, too. A vast assortment of beauties with varying hair colors, skin tones, body types, personalities... Some of them were women who had been his enemies, yet in the sanctuary of his mind, they were slaves to his love, and they called out to him, blowing kisses and cutely fighting with the other women for his attention.

Yet as he started to get himself close, suddenly a very unwanted image popped into his mind, crumbling the fantasy of his harem. A certain green-haired pirate came rushing toward him, bursting through the group of pretty women, his chest partially exposed by a loose-fitting shirt, swords drawn, and a slight grin plastered on his face.

Abruptly, Sanji removed his hand from his aching member and jumped out of his seat, breathing heavily. His mind reeled as he tried to fathom why the grossly unwanted image of that man would show up in his erotic reverie.

In the past, the sudden image of the swordsman trespassing in his fantasy would have probably made him turn flaccid instantly. Yet for some reason, he felt no less aroused than he had a few moments before.

"Why did he have to make that shitty comment?" Sanji growled aloud, slamming his fist on the table.

In vain, he tried to force Zoro out of his mind so he could hurry up and give himself a release. However, all of the beautiful women of his fantasies could not quite compete with the brilliance of the swordsman, whose presence overtook any of the vixens conjured in his mind. Finally, he gave up.

"I'm not making myself come to that shitty marimo," he growled deeply, shaking his head. He tried to concentrate on something dull and unappealing until the erection finally disappeared, though the tension in his body felt greater than ever before. As he paced back and forth across his room, smoking yet another cigarette, a feeling of rage in both his mind and body slowly started to simmer, until it finally turned into a full rolling boil.

At the peak of his fury, Sanji found his resolve, and decided that a confrontation was inevitable. Determined, he marched out of his room in the direction of the Crow's Nest. He showed no hesitation as he climbed to the top, despite the fact that the lights were now out and Zoro was surely asleep.

He threw open the door, glanced inside, and firmly bellowed, "I'm coming in."

For a moment, he fumbled to find a light to turn on. Once the room was illuminated, however, he was a bit dumbstruck to see that it was completely devoid of the other pirate. He stared ahead blankly, one finger pressed against his lip, the roar in his mind temporarily subsided as he tried to figure out where Zoro could be at this time.

"Looking for me?" a deep, sultry voice rumbled near his ear, so close that he could feel the warmth of his breath.

"Shitty marimo!" Sanji shouted, spinning around in surprise. Apparently Zoro had climbed up to the Crow's Nest just a moment after he did. Feeling like the green-haired pirate was standing just a bit too close to him, Sanji unconsciously took a step backwards.

"What do you want?" Zoro asked, crossing his arms. Sanji looked him up and down, and could not help but notice that he, too, was wearing a different shirt from earlier. This one hung loosely in the front, exposing most of his hard, well-toned chest, similar to the one he had been wearing in Sanji's fantasy. With a shudder, Sanji forced himself back into the present moment.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, the blonde man raised his leg threatening, angling his body so that he could attack Zoro with a series of violent kicks at a moment's notice. "I'm going to get back at you for earlier," he said. "Get ready."

Zoro had already drawn two of his swords. "Oi, get back at me for what?"

Sanji glowered at him angrily. "For what you said to me," he replied vaguely.

"I still don't know what the hell you mean, you damned ero-cook."

"For suggesting _men_," Sanji shouted. Despite himself, he felt a hot blush creep across his cheeks as he said it.

A mirthful smile broke across Zoro's face. "What, did that comment bother you that much? I can't imagine why, unless you were actually considering it..." The amused twinkle in Zoro's eye was impossible to miss.

Gritting his teeth, Sanji lunged at him. His kick was instantly blocked by the blunt end of Zoro's blades. He tried again, alternating his patterns, incorporating kicks, spins and jumps, trying to land a hit. Yet Sanji realized that in his unsettled state of mind, his kicks were not landing as effectively as they should have been; he needed to calm himself, to concentrate on the fight. With dismay, he reasoned that Zoro could probably tell the difference as well. He still had not bothered to draw his third katana.

Sanji tried to increase the intensity of his attack, but Zoro kept besting him, meeting each new attack with a block and a smirk.

In a split second, Zoro had sheathed his swords, blocked an incoming kick by grabbing Sanji's calf tightly, and pressed himself up against Sanji until their chests were touching.

"Is the thought of _this _happening bothering you?" Zoro asked, bringing his face so close, their lips were almost touching.

Sanji started to back away, but Zoro, who had now released Sanji's calf, was grabbing his arms so tightly, he could not put any distance between them. Closing his eyes in defeat, Sanji held his breath, expecting the swordsman to plant his lips again his own.

Instead, lips pressed against the side of his neck, lightly kissing and sucking his hot skin. Sanji let out a surprised sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan. Zoro chuckled quietly, sliding his tongue across his neck down to his collar bone as he grinded his body against Sanji's.

For a brief moment, Sanji lost track of himself. He rested his hand on Zoro's shoulder and pulled him closer, a slightly more eager moan escaping his throat. Then he realized they were so close, the other man surely felt his raging erection. He started to shove Zoro away, a bit panicked, but the other man was already stepping back.

The smug grin on Zoro's face as he looked Sanji up and down indicated that he had _definitely_ felt it. His agitation multiplying, Sanji prepared to attack the swordsman again.

"Your nose isn't bleeding," Zoro said matter-of-factly, nodding at him.

"What?" Sanji reached up to feel his nose. It was true... despite how turned on he felt, the only outward signs were slightly flushed cheeks and his groin standing at high attention.

"I'm surprised just that little bit could get you so turned on, though," Zoro's smirk returned, a bit more aggressive than before. His eye slowly glanced downward until it rested on Sanji's crotch.

At that moment, the cook's brain was giving him conflicting instructions: he wasn't sure if he should lunge at Zoro in anger or recoil in horror. Unsure of which to follow, he just stared at him, dumbfounded.

The swordsman took a threatening step closer to him. "What's with that nervous look?"

Indeed, Sanji felt a drop of sweat slowly trickle down his forehead. The reason for him confronting Zoro suddenly seemed completely irrational, as he found himself in an even worse predicament than before.

Another step. Sanji's heart pounded wildly. Yet another. He could faintly smell steel, the scent that always seemed to linger on Zoro. Sanji lifted a trembling hand, but he did not know whether to pull him closer or push him away.

To his surprise, Zoro pressed his hand against Sanji's, lacing their fingers together.

"Oi, what are you doing, you shitty swordsman," Sanji panicked. He tried to wrench his arm away, but Zoro's calloused hand firmly gripped it so he once again found himself unable to break free.

"I'm not doing any favors for an ero-cook like you, if you're not going to admit what you want to do."

Sanji felt himself inexplicably out of breath. The feeling of hysteria in his chest—and of something else less easy to identify—continued to mount.

"There's less complication when it's just with men," Zoro continued, "and it's been awhile for me too."

He released his grip, but he did not move. They were so close, Sanji was certain that Zoro may actually be able to hear his heart pounding, even above his ragged breathing.

_How the hell am I supposed to take this? _ Sanji's frantic inner dialog tried to comprehend what had just happened. _Does he... want to do it?_

Then Zoro smiled, a complex expression on his face, and gave him a resigned nod. "Alright. We can just fight until you're satisfied, then."

He drew only a single katana this time. Sanji thought it might have been to antagonize him, telling him that in his current state, he only needed a single sword to fend him off.

Yet rather than the taunt, the cook found himself more angry at the_ entire exchange_. There really was only one way to interpret Zoro's words, and his beating around the bush pissed him off. What's more, there was something in Zoro's expression that made his anger bubble to a new level.

Furiously, he attacked the swordsman, and they traded blows for a full minute; however, this time, it was Sanji who pinned the other man.

"Who the hell isn't admitting what they want to do now?" Sanji shouted, their faces once again closer than he would have preferred. _Or is that really the case? _Sanji thought, gritting his teeth.

They stared at each other, locked at a standstill. As he studied Zoro's face, he was able to confirm what he thought he noticed earlier. Once again, the green-haired man's expression was completely unreadable but for one simple emotion: _hunger_.

No matter how well a person could hide their feelings, the cook never failed to notice when someone was hungry. Yet, this carnal hunger was something that he knew a good meal would not be able to satiate.

Clenching his jaw, Sanji shifted his stance just slightly, debating on whether he should make that terrifying final leap into a territory he once dared not enter—or rather, that he never even imagined entering.

As he teetered on the edge of his mental cliff, the swordsman beat him to it. Dropping his katana with a deafeningly loud clatter, he grabbed Sanji's suit coat and yanked the blonde man against him, crushing their lips together.

This time, Sanji had been slightly more prepared, but he was expecting Zoro to avoid his lips again. The fire of their kiss sent an electrifying tingle down his spine. Indeed, the other man had a fervent hunger that made Sanji feel like he might be eaten alive if he let his guard down.

However, the cook was hardly defenseless; he, too, knew how to wage war, whether it was against the world or a single, arrogant pirate who had a bad habit of trying to bite his lower lip while kissing him.

Sanji removed his suit coat and tossed it somewhere behind him. Zoro pulled away for a moment as he unbuckled the sash tied around his waist, which supported the sheaths to his swords. The green-haired man started to remove his shirt as well, but rid of his own restrictive suit coat, Sanji was already launching his counterattack.

With an aggressive shove, he knocked Zoro to the ground, pinning him down by pressing an elbow on his shoulder.

A low chuckle escaped Zoro's throat as Sanji leaned down toward his neck.

"What the hell are you laughing at, shitty marimo?" Sanji asked, irritated at the interruption.

"I'm just surprised that an inexperienced ero-cook had the balls to do that," Zoro smirked.

"Who are you calling inexperienced?" the cook barked.

Zoro pulled Sanji down toward him, his hand cupped behind the blonde man's slender neck, and roughly nipped his neck. Sanji let out a low moan. With a wicked grin on his face, Zoro pressed his mouth against the other man's ear, so close that Sanji felt his lips brush against his earlobe as he spoke. "Then prove you're not," he rumbled, his low voice barely above a whisper.

His voice caused a shiver to run down Sanji's spine, and he clutched onto Zoro's shoulder, fingernails digging into his flesh sharply. If it was painful for Zoro, however, he did not show it; instead, he continued suckling at Sanji's neck while he started to unbutton the cook's shirt with his free hand.

"Dammit, I won't let you get the best of me," Sanji panted, pulling back until the other pirate's lips were no longer on him.

Tearing Zoro's loose shirt open so even more of his muscular chest was exposed, Sanji placed his lips on his collarbone, repeating the same erotic tactics that the other man had just tried on him.

The low rumble of Zoro's pleasurable moan seems to rattle Sanji's entire body, somehow making him feel even more turned on. Unthinkingly, he started to grind his hips. He felt a strange sense of satisfaction as he felt the other man's stiff arousal rub against his own.

However, the swordsman was not going to let him have the upper hand for long. Pushing Sanji off of him, he forced them both upward, until they were sitting, facing each other, their legs entangled.

With a smirk of victory, Zoro pushed the now-unbuttoned shirt off of Sanji's shoulders. As he started to kiss and lick his chest, Sanji leaned back, small noises escaping his throat evidencing his pleasure.

Then Zoro reached up and grabbed him by the nape of his neck again, pulling him into another frighteningly forceful kiss. His other hand pulled Sanji's body closer, until he had the cook practically straddling his lap.

"Oi, isn't this a little intimate?" Sanji managed to sputter in between aggressive kisses.

"I wouldn't be intimate with a stupid dartboard-eyebrow like you," Zoro retorted, emphasizing his displeasure at the comment by biting Sanji's bottom lip sharply.

Intimacy aside, there was definitely an _intensity _that was unfamiliar to Sanji. He tried to remember a time that felt familiar to this one, but none of his previous sexual partners had exhibited the same ferocity of the swordsman.

Gasping in surprise, Sanji felt a tight pressure in his pants suddenly release, bringing him back to the present moment. In a surprisingly adept gesture, Zoro had managed to pluck the button of his pants and slide down his zipper before he had time to notice. The feeling of an impossibly strong grip on his bulging erection followed, and with his mouth hanging open, he fixed his gaze on Zoro.

Zoro's single open eye stared at him fiercely, the hunger Sanji had previously noted now reaching a burning level. The cook found it impossible for his body to refrain from responding, and he once again crushed his lips against the other man's, desperately trying to take in as much as he could.

The battle for territory in their mouths reminded Sanji of their fights; sometimes he lost ground, sometimes he gained it, but ultimately, he could not deny that they were an equal match. Zoro's low, vibrato moans seemed to resonate down to Sanji's very core, and he felt his body burning with lust, screaming for more and more. Somehow he managed to deepen the kiss even further, but the other man only let him have his way a few moments before fighting back once again, reversing the direction of their kiss.

A bit less smoothly that Zoro, Sanji began to fumble at removing Zoro's pants. Finally, he was able to give the other man a slight release, and without speaking, they mutually agreed to back away for a moment while they removed their remaining clothing.

"Right here?" Sanji asked, gesturing toward the floor slightly, quickly sliding off his pants.

"Ah," Zoro nodded, pulling his haramaki over his head.

The swordsman's naked body before him was quite a spectacle. Zoro's master-level exercise regime left every part of his body toned and muscular. Sanji was a bit taken aback by the amount of scars covering his body. Although he had been present for many of them, the most notable being the large slash across his chest, Sanji realized that the other man had undoubtedly seen far more fighting that he had. He recalled how many times he had nearly seen the swordsman slain right in front of his eyes.

Apparently Zoro was making similar observations about his own body. The swordsman ran his rough hand over Sanji's skin, starting from the thigh, and slowly making his way up to the front of his chest. "Never would've thought you were in some of the rough fights you were in, seeing you like this," he commented, his tone surprisingly gentle.

Sanji bent over and lustfully began to kiss Zoro's chest. "That's because I don't overdo it like you," he murmured as his mouth made its way downward.

"Ahh," was the only reply Zoro gave.

Even as he ran his lips down the other man's body, Sanji thought about how he would have likely preferred the soft, supple body of a woman. In fact, if anyone had ever asked him if he found a man even remotely attractive, he would have responded with an adamant _no_. Yet for some reason, there was something about the raw power that Zoro's Herculean body exuded that made his desire reach an unbearable level.

Fingernails raked down his back, followed by a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a moan. Sanji realized that the green-haired man was probably experiencing a similar feeling. A moment later, his thoughts were confirmed.

"Can't wait any longer," Zoro panted. A pair of strong hands firmly grasped Sanji's hips.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: As Simple As Hunger

Rating: M

Characters: Sanji/Zoro

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.

Warning: Post-time skip. Explicit content.

_Many thanks to calloutyoru._

* * *

"Oi, what are you about to do?" Sanji's eyes widened as Zoro firmly gripped his hips, pulling him closer. Having been completely caught up in the heat of the moment, he had not stopped to consider the logistics carefully. However, it was very clear that he was about to be put in a _receiving _position that he was not quite prepared for.

Zoro paused for a moment, giving him a pointed look. "Are you a kid or something? You know exactly what I'm about to do."

"Oi!" Sanji said as the swordsman pulled him even closer still. "You don't just get to decide who gets to do what."

"You've never done it with a guy before, right?" Zoro asked, irritatingly calm for asking such a prying question.

"You already know the answer to that," Sanji replied with annoyance and a hint of embarrassment.

Momentarily, he felt the grip on his hips loosen, and hands firmly pressed his shoulders.

"Just trust me," Zoro assured, an unexpectedly sincere look on his face.

Sanji opened his mouth to protest, but all the harsh words he wanted to say seemed to die in his throat. Vaguely, he began to understand that the feeling washing over him was not the usual anger and agitation he felt from Zoro's presence, but rather, something more warm and calming.

Grimly, Sanji faced the truth: he really _did_ trust the other man, as much as he loathed the thought.

Nodding in defeat, he braced himself for whatever the swordsman had planned. He reeled at the notion that he trusted Zoro, but he could not deny that when he said those words, his anxiety subsided considerably.

"Let your body relax," Zoro murmured, gently biting a sensitive spot on Sanji's neck while he spoke.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that when I'm about to get a dick up my ass?" Sanji shot back.

"I'm not just gonna jam it in there," he nipped at his earlobe. "I'll be sure not to hurt your _delicate _body," he assured, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Why you..." Sanji seethed. A moment later, however, Zoro made him forget his anger as he felt something slide into an area he was not completely comfortable with being touched.

"Oi, it that your finger?" he gasped in surprise.

"Ah," Zoro nodded affirmatively. His answer was probably lost, though, as he pressed a certain sensitive spot that made Sanji cry out in an unusual compilation of shock and pleasure.

"Not so bad, is it, ero-cook?" Zoro smirked.

His smugness made Sanji want to get angry, but he was completely preoccupied with other matters. "How the hell is that possible?" he managed to choke out. He had no idea how the other man pressing something _there_ felt so incredible.

Zoro momentarily muted his moans with an aggressive kiss. Distracted by the hungry, erotic mouth, he barely noticed a second slick finger slip in, which shortly thereafter was followed by a third.

That is, until an even more intense wave of pleasure wracked through his body. "What the hell, you shitty marimo," Sanji panted, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Alright," Zoro said with finality. "You're ready."

Sanji temporarily felt the pressure subside near his rear. Then he felt Zoro's body shift underneath him slightly.

"Oi, we can do it from this position?" Sanji asked in surprise. He and Zoro were still facing each other, with Sanji now almost sitting on Zoro's lap, legs straddling either side of him... Though he would not say it out loud, Sanji had an image in his head that in order for it to work, he would need to be bent over with his back facing the other man.

The swordsman answered his question with a lustful moan as he slid inside of him. Sanji gasped in surprise, but hearing Zoro pant something that he thought might have been the word "relax," he took a deep breath and allowed his body to settle down on Zoro's towering erection.

The need for words was suddenly gone, and just as though they were fighting, they immediately found a rhythm that seemed to suit them perfectly.

They grinded against each other at an increasingly desperate pace. The sweet spot that Zoro had found with his fingers was now being hit again and again by each thrust. The sensation was more than enough to help relieve Sanji's aching need. At some point, though, Zoro grabbed his cock with surprisingly slick hands, making him cry out in a higher pitch than he would have preferred to use. Sanji realized that the other man must have had some kind of lubricant at arms reach that he had cleverly kept out of his view.

Or at least he _thought_ he realized it, but honestly, coherent thoughts were not exactly his strong point at this particular moment in time. Rather, he had a vague sense of it, but did not particularly care as electrifying waves of pleasure coursed through his body again and again.

For some time, he simply moved, not caring about anything else but the sensation, not about the moans coming out of his mouth or the distorted faces he was surely making. Then he became aware that he was being watched.

Zoro's keen eye stared at him, his gaze completely fixated on his face. Although it was hard to focus on anything besides the blissful pleasure of their intercourse, he felt a hot blush creep over his face as he realized that he was being studied at a moment when he had taken the filter off of all of his reactions.

There was a slight smirk on the other man's lips, but he realized that the swordsman was not trying to mock his reactions. To test his theory, he twisted his pelvis in a way that made him press down on the other man's erection with increased force. Momentarily, Zoro closed his eyes as he cried out in ecstasy, his face contorted with the effort.

When he recovered, however, his gaze returned to him. Sanji could not help but stare right back, realization of what was happening dawning on him as Zoro gradually increased the speed of his thrusts.

This, too, was one of their battles—a battle to see who would be able to last the longest.

Truth be told, Sanji felt like he might be in trouble, as he was right on the cusp of an orgasm; but surely, Zoro had to be close too, and he knew he could try a bit harder to put him on the brink.

Sanji began to grind at a slightly sharper angle. To his satisfaction, he saw Zoro bite down on his lower lip as he shut his eye, briefly breaking their intense eye contact. He thought he had the upper hand.

Then Zoro jerked below him, and it felt to Sanji like his dick became impossibly hard inside of him, making him cry out in astoundment and tighten his legs around Zoro's waist.

It ended in an instant: Zoro's eye widened in surprise, Sanji's fingernails clawed into Zoro's shoulders, both men cried out in unison, and then the battle was over.

Releasing his load over Zoro's toned stomach, Sanji fell forward, collapsing on top of the other man, his arms suddenly feeling weak. Zoro did not protest, and leaned back against the wall, letting Sanji's slumped body rest against him. Both men panted, hot and sticky, briefly drained of energy.

Sanji could not even tell who had come first. He thought it may have been Zoro who started, but it had triggered his own release, and their orgasms seemed to be simultaneous. _ I was so caught up in it, I can't even remember_, he thought.

_I guess I'll beat him next time_. Then he sat up abruptly. _Wait, why am I thinking there's going to be a next time?_

"What is it?" Zoro asked, peering at him inquisitively.

"N-nothing," he stammered. No way in hell was he going to share that particular thought.

Gingerly, Sanji removed himself from the top of the green-haired man, unable to prevent making a small mess while he did so. He sat next to him, leaning against the wall uncomfortably as he felt a warm trickle slowly exiting his body.

Glancing at Zoro, he noticed the other man had grabbed his discarded shirt and was slovenly wiping up the sticky fluid from his abdomen. With a nod that clearly said_ good enough_, he tossed the soiled shirt aside, leaned his head against the wall and closed his eye.

"Oi, don't tell me you're just going to fall asleep like that," Sanji said, glancing up and down at his nude body.

One eye opened, peering at him suspiciously. "Sleeping? Was that already enough for you?"

Sanji sputtered for a moment, taken by surprise at the question. Yet at the mere thought of the prospect of it, he felt something it him start to stir again. Too late, he realized it was the stir of arousal.

Zoro glanced down below Sanji's waist, smirking. "I didn't think so."

With a blindingly fast motion, Zoro was on top of him, lips crushing against his with the savagery of a wild beast. The physical embodiment of his desire was as obvious as Sanji's, making the cook respond with more frantic eagerness than before.

Maybe it was because they were done teasing, and were now rushing more fervidly toward the goal of climaxing, but Sanji felt the impatient need to start the act much more rapidly.

Without asking any questions, Zoro settled slightly on top of Sanji's lap, in a complete reversal of their previous positions. The cook was surprised that he felt a vague sense of disappointment; the sensation of being entered by the other man had been a new and exciting kind of pleasure, and he wanted to experience it again. However, the thought of taking the other man made him feel an analogous thrill, so he decided to go along with it.

Concentrating on ravenous kissing, Sanji did not realize the other man had been reaching for something until he pressed a cool glass bottle in Sanji's hand. Surprised, he looked over to see what it was.

"Olive oil..." he murmured, a bit confused. Suddenly, he glared at Zoro. "Oi, is that what you've been using?"

Zoro nodded.

"Shitty marimo, I remember when this bottle went missing! You took it?"

"It works better than most things I've found," he explained simply.

Sanji glared at him vehemently, remembering all of the weeks he had spent wondering what the hell had happened to that bottle, but quickly resolved to take out his anger in ways other than by yelling at him. Hesitantly, he poured some of the oil in his hands.

Too proud to ask exactly what he was supposed to do to get started, he doubtfully began reaching toward man's rear.

Zoro smirked in a way that made the cook want to strangle him—or maybe make him cry out for mercy. However, the cocky smirk was quickly replaced by a less judgmental expression. Zoro leaned forward, pressing his chest against Sanji, positioning his mouth near his ear.

"Put a finger in slowly," he murmured into his ear, not able to resist a small nip against his earlobe afterward. Yet again, the baritone voice resounding so close to his ear sent a shudder down Sanji's spine.

He followed the instruction, fighting back a slightly uncomfortable sensation in his stomach. He wasn't sure what the root of the ill feeling was, but he had never really considered putting his finger up another person's ass before, so it was likely that was part of it.

"Press forward—forward for me, I mean."

Sanji was a little bit confused by the purpose of this instruction, but he went ahead and tried it out. To his surprise, the swordsman moaned loudly in his ear. He felt strong, calloused hands gripping his back tightly.

_Oh, so that's the spot he was hitting_, Sanji thought. Just thinking about that pleasurable sensation hit Sanji with a refreshed wave of arousal. Eagerly, he started to attack Zoro's exposed neck with his lips and teeth, while carefully sliding in a second well-oiled finger.

Zoro's positive response made him start to quickly move to a third, but realizing that the green-haired man had increased it a bit more gradually, he paused. "Is this too soon?" he asked, momentarily forgetting his stubborn pride.

"No, go ahead. I'm pretty much ready, so it isn't going to take much," Zoro rumbled again.

"Alright." He slid in a third finger, and started to gradually press the spot. Zoro erupted in a series of moans that made the other man's loins burn with need.

Zoro reached down and grabbed his swollen member. Surprised, Sanji cried out, unable to hide the faintest hint of a smile on his face. He felt an unexpected slickness. Glancing down, he saw that Zoro was rubbing some of the oil on him.

"We're both ready now, right," Zoro said, not really asking a question. Sanji simply grunted in response.

Zoro lifted his body slightly, guiding their bodies to the position they were both crying out for. As Sanji felt himself slide inside of Zoro, a cry burst out of his mouth that he could barely identify as coming from him.

The feeling of tense, muscular legs coiled around him, and the feeling of another man's erection rubbing against him as they rocked together, was a new and exciting sensation—but perhaps not as exciting as how impossibly _tight _it felt inside of the other man. Not to mention that with each thrust, as Sanji tried to hit that sweet spot that felt so good for both of them, a new and thrilling moan escaped his partner's mouth.

To his chagrin, Sanji felt himself start to lose control first. With a gasp, he tried to hold it back for a few moments longer, but he could no longer keep it in. He climaxed, hard and loud, unintentionally pulling Zoro painfully close against him as he did so. The other man followed in short order, and Sanji felt a burst of wet warmth gush on his stomach and chest.

After a moment of laying still, panting heavily from the exertion, Zoro rolled off of the blonde man. They laid next to each other for some time, on the welcomingly cool floor, catching their breath.

As the euphoria started to wear off, Sanji reluctantly started to think about the truth. The timing was close, but undoubtedly, Sanji had lost control first; Zoro was the winner.

He glanced over at the swordsman. Noticing he was being watched, Zoro turned toward him, smirking arrogantly. A knowing look passed between them, and with an angry scowl, Sanji sat up and started to pull himself to his feet.

He picked up his own shirt and studied it, momentarily considering copying Zoro's sloppy act of wiping himself off with it, but then the crumpled shirt in question caught his eye. He picked up Zoro's sticky shirt off the ground and used it to wipe up the excess semen as best he could.

"Oi, what the hell you do you think you're doing?" Zoro protested, sitting upright.

"There's no point in me getting my clothes dirty too," Sanji retorted, a bit more sharply than he actually intended. He was still angry at his loss.

He started to dress. The process was more than unpleasant; his entire body felt uncomfortably sticky from their activities. He wished there was some way he could have showered from up in the Crow's Nest.

"I'm taking a bath," he announced, fastening only enough buttons on his shirt to keep it closed. He opted to carry his suit coat. He prayed no one would notice his disheveled appearance as he left.

"Ah, hold on, I need one too."

"Who said I wanted to take one with you?" Sanji barked.

As they descended down to the main deck and headed toward the bath, Sanji felt a faint tingle of pleasure in his groin at the thought of Zoro, slick from soap in the steamy bathroom. A tiny voice in the back of his head that he desperately wanted to ignore wondered if the swordsman had it in him for one more go.

* * *

A/N: Many thanks for reading. This was originally going to be the final chapter, but because of some of the comments I received expressing interest in seeing Zoro's perspective, there will be one more bonus chapter.


	4. Bonus Chapter: As True As Steel

Bonus Chapter: As True As Steel

_Zoro's side of the story_

* * *

"Then what about men?"

Although it had been a serious suggestion, the look of pure mortification on Sanji's face left Zoro feeling unreasonably satisfied.

The whole conversation had been quite pleasing, really. It had been a long time since the swordsman had been able to best him so completely and one-sidedly. Sanji's insults had barely fazed him, but each comment Zoro made seemed to shake the cook to his very core.

Yet, while his phrasing may have been chosen to achieve the most entertaining response, it was a genuine suggestion. As much as Zoro disliked having to justify himself, he attempted to explain his reasoning to the sputtering cook as best he could. "You can't get with a woman because you act like a damned idiot around them. You can't stand newkama because they're trying to look and act just like the women driving you crazy. Doesn't leave a whole lot of other options, really."

Zoro contemplated continuing his explanation. There were many things about doing it with a man that made it less complicated than a woman, particularly when there was no expectation of it becoming anything more. It was easier to deal with the temperament of a man—at least, the swordsman though so. Sexual urges tended to coincide more frequently among two men, as well.

Yet as Sanji hung his head in his hands, somehow managing to look both exhausted and defeated, Zoro closed his mouth. Clearly, it was not information Sanji needed—or particularly wanted—to hear.

And so, they bickered for a few more moments. Then Zoro grew weary of trying to give Sanji any advice that might help him in his predicament, and he shrugged and finished his drink.

"Then take care of it yourself and quit complaining," he told him with finality, making his exit speedily enough so the cook did not have any opportunity to respond.

Zoro actually felt more annoyed than he had anticipated, which increased his agitation even more. Of course he knew Sanji would have that kind of reaction-in fact, he had been looking forward to it-but somehow, the conversation left him with a feeling he was not in any mood to deal with... a _yearning_, even.

It felt as though Sanji's itch had somehow rubbed off on him.

"Looks like being around that damn ero-cook is starting to turn me ero," Zoro muttered under his breath.

With growing impatience, he climbed the ladder up to the Crow's Nest. Sleeplessness was usually not a word in Zoro's vocabulary, but the restless feeling within him was clearly going to be difficult to overcome.

The swordsman knew his body well. Sure enough, sleep did not come, and after some time, he decided to go out for some cool night air. As an afterthought, he swapped his slightly clingier shirt for a loose-fitting shirt made out of an airier material, which he thought would be more comfortable to sleep in, in the event he fell asleep somewhere on the deck of the ship.

Yet he was only on the deck for a short while when he heard someone stirring. Rapid clicks of shoes, belonging to a person with a noticeably irritated, fast-paced gait drew nearer. Recognizing them instantly, Zoro smirked in anticipation.

Slipping into the shadows, he waited for a moment until Sanji stormed into view. The blond pirate had a bent up cigarette clamped between his teeth and clenched his fists with resolve as he rushed past the swordsman, not even noticing his presence. His stormy gaze was fixed on the place where Zoro had just left: the Crow's Nest.

With a mirthful smirk, Zoro followed him as silently as he could muster. When he saw the blonde man was near the top, he began his ascent up the ladder. He could barely suppress a snicker when he heard a low, angry voice call out, "I'm coming in!" before Sanji disappeared inside.

Zoro reached the top and, without trying very hard at all to conceal himself, pulled himself up so he was standing just behind Sanji.

The cook was looking from side to side, a finger pressed against his mouth, with a hopelessly baffled expression. It was as though he just could not comprehend why the swordsman was not there.

Zoro leaned forward until he was mere inches from his ear. Still, Sanji did not notice.

"Looking for me?"

The speed at which the cook spun around was amusing; Zoro was already entertained with how the other man had temporary lost the ability to try to keep his cool.

"What do you want?" Zoro asked, a bit more seriously. He thought it was a fair question.

It led to a rather annoying conversation that he would have rather not bothered with. Yet when Sanji brought up his suggestion again—the one about trying men—Zoro was not quite certain what the emotion was that he felt inside of him. It was barely discernible, but undoubtedly, _something_ felt slightly off.

As they traded blows, it became more apparent: he felt like his strikes missed _something_ crucial. Fortunately, Sanji was worse off than him, so he doubted the blonde man even noticed the difference.

He closed his eye for a moment, imagining that still, tranquil place he often went to in order to find his inner strength. He felt like someone had dropped a grain of sand inside a vast lake, and though the disturbance could not be seen by the naked eye, undoubtedly, there was something unseen yet unmistakable now churning below the surface.

He opened his eye again, meeting Sanji's challenging gaze. As he stared at the other man, panting slightly from the effort of his assault, glaring at him darkly with gritted teeth, blond hair intermittently falling over both eyes, rather than just the one, he identified the source of the feeling. It was _want_.

Zoro seldom found _that_ kind of want, that hard-to-ignore craving, in his repertoire of emotions, but now that it was there, it could not be ignored.

As the cook struck, he sheathed his swords and grabbed Sanji's calf in such an effortless motion that Sanji cried out in surprise.

Pulling himself close, he asked the slack-jawed cook, "is the thought of _this_ happening bothering you?"

Sanji tried to break free, but when it came to brute strength, Zoro would not be bested. He gripped the other man's arms tightly, leaned forward, and started nipping his neck.

The noise that came out of Sanji's mouth was both startling and satisfying. For all of the stupid sounds the cook made in the presence of women, he had never heard anything quite like this.

Zoro felt oddly pleased when Sanji began to respond, pressing their bodies tightly together-it was hard to miss that certain telltale sign grinding into his hip, telling him that Sanji was enjoying it. He could tell from the atmosphere that the cook was only seconds away from panicking, though, so he preemptively backed away.

Zoro definitely had the upper hand during all of their interactions today… and he had no intention of letting Sanji forget it. With a smirk and a shift of his eye, he let him know he felt it. He was also satisfied to see that he had been right about one other thing.

"Your nose isn't bleeding."

Once again, a perplexed, confused look crossed his face, like Sanji had temporarily forgotten his angry facade. Zoro felt a stir within himself as well, making the want, the need, grow stronger. Though not a strength Zoro wanted, now that he felt it, it was not a feeling he wished to ignore.

"I'm surprised just that little bit could get you so turned on, though," he commented, hoping to get a rise out of the cook; he was successful.

Gradually he started to approach Sanji, bringing himself closer and closer, enjoying the increasingly perplexed look on Sanji's face. Sweat began to drip from the cook's brow.

Yet, as much pleasure as he got out of Sanji's failure to keep the upper-hand in the situation, he felt a moment of hesitation as he readied himself to make a move he could not take back. Fighting back the more primal urge threatening to overtake him, he reached out his hand, and tentatively grabbed Sanji's, lacing their fingers together.

Sanji's brow twitched slightly in a gesture of surprise. He tried to pull away, and spit out a few insults, but Zoro gripped tighter, not wanting to let go until he could figure something out.

"There's less complication when it's just with men," Zoro felt the words fall out of his mouth before he had a chance to reconsider them. His tone was calm and even, but inwardly, his mind reeled as he chastised himself for whatever he was about to say.

_What the hell am I trying to do? Explain the reason to do it?_

Dozens of thoughts rolled around in his mind, most of them related to the reason he held such an opinion. His life revolved around his goal to be the strongest swordsman. There had never been any reason to pursue an actual relationship with anyone. He had not necessarily ever pushed away a willing woman, but he had often questioned if sex was worth the messy, emotional aftermath.

Zoro figured out very quickly that with women, it was necessary to quash any expectation they may have had from the onset. Even then, those women still asked for more than he was ever willing to give. Admittedly, that wasn't much, but he felt like even if he _had_ given them something, they would have wanted more.

Even when he worked as a bounty hunter before joining the Strawhat crew, Zoro never stayed in one location for very long… Yet he could recall all too many occasions when he had heard pleading words from a woman's mouth, begging him to stay just a little while longer. Another day. Another month. _Another lifetime_. He could not figure out what it was about him that made them want him to stick around, but he had no _reason_ to stay. He had a goal to pursue and it didn't involve them.

Just when he had reached that breaking point, where he was about to swear off any kind of physical intimacy because it seemed too troublesome, a single encounter changed his entire outlook on sex. One day, while alone with a certain man, that man approached Zoro with a strangely covetous look in his eyes. Before Zoro had time to consider any consequences, he found himself in the middle of the most aggressive, passionate sex he had ever experienced.

Afterwards, there was some residual soreness, and a few minor bite-marks and abrasions; but emotionally, there were no consequences. That man, who Zoro had seen numerous times before and after they came together, never asked for anything more from him. He didn't try to alter their relationship or become closer to the swordsman; in fact, he did not even act like anything unusual had happened the moment he and Zoro had torn their bodies away from one another.

They simply shared a mutual need, and once it was met, they parted. The swordsman was left with nothing more than an interesting memory and a refreshed outlook. Even in recalling it, Zoro realized that who that man was did not really matter to him—he just the symbolized the start of a change. After that encounter, he had similar experiences with other men; it was an ideal result that he was just never able to achieve after being with a woman.

However, Zoro was not about to reveal any of these things to Sanji. He did not care to discuss the past, and his reasons were his own, so there was no reason to push them on the other man. And, besides, he did not really care to arm a stupid ero-cook with that kind of ammunition against him.

"...and it's been awhile for me too," Zoro finished, the only additional explanation he was willing to offer.

He let go of Sanji's arm and stepped back slightly. The range of emotions flickering across Sanji's face were enough of an answer, though. The cook was reeling; it was pointless to say or do anything further.

Trying to ignore the slight twinge of disappointment in his chest, he moved his hand to his sword. "Alright. We can just fight until you're satisfied, then."

Parrying Sanji's blows was simple; the cook visibly began to seethe, growing infinitely more furious. Unfortunately, this fury made him sloppy instead of stronger. The swordsman felt a vague sense of disappointment; he could use a fiery fight to take the edge off of the anxiousness growing in the pit of his stomach.

Suddenly, Zoro felt himself pinned against the wall. "Who the hell isn't admitting what they want to do now?" Sanji's angry words sounded almost deafening in his ears.

Zoro was not sure if it was the temperature suddenly changing outside (likely the result of entering the climate of the next island) or just the heaviness of the cook's gaze, but the air felt inexplicably stifling.

_It's not the weather_, Zoro decided, as he found himself locked in a gaze with the cook that he could not turn away from. He consciously relaxed his expression, but inside of him, the tension was building, knotting and folding, until there was nothing left but that feeling; that carnal urge that he could not ignore.

After several moments of motionless, Sanji shifted his stance just slightly, moving himself fractionally closer to the swordsman.

And frankly, that was all Zoro needed to galvanize him. The noisy clanging sound that echoed through the Crow's Nest told him that he had undoubtedly discarded his sword, but he was too busy focusing on his mouth, pressed firmly against the other man's.

With satisfaction, he felt a slight jolt of surprise in Sanji's body; he had, once again, managed to startle the cook. But after a moment, the blonde man relaxed and began to respond with a need easily matching his own. Zoro noted that the hesitation in his movements had disappeared, as well.

_I hope that damn ero-cook realizes I'm past the point where I can stop myself now._

He chose to keep this thought to himself, however; even if Sanji had a problem with it, Zoro was hardly going to let him change his mind now anyway.

* * *

**_One month later_**

_Too quiet lately_, Zoro thought with a heavy sigh as he settled into the steamy bathwater.

After the unusually difficult strength exercises he had been doing over the last few days, the warm water felt soothing on his crying muscles. But really, muscle strain was not the nuisance Zoro felt he most needed to alleviate.

As he felt his body start to relax, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander. The crew's last few stops at islands had been fairly uneventful; Zoro was _itching_ for a good fight, but the tiny skirmishes he had been involved in were hardly notable.

_So damn unsatisfying_, he thought, his brow twitching in irritation.

The swordsman loathed internalizing his feelings and needs; he wanted to recognize it so he could either do something to fix it or ignore it if there was nothing to be done. But this time, Zoro could not even isolate the greatest annoyance swimming around inside his easily overworked mind. All he felt like was he needed a _challenge_… something, anything to make him feel like he had discarded even an ounce of all of the tension coiled inside of his body.

Maybe there was nothing to be done, but ignoring it was not an option. Fighting was the easy solution, but it had to be a _really_ all-consuming, fervid battle for it to do the trick. Unless they were randomly attacked by a particularly strong pirate crew out in the open water, or he got one of his own equally powerful crewmates to engage him, it was not going to happen.

_Tch, last time I did that, I nearly died for a different reason_, Zoro realized, unconsciously rubbing a spot on the back of his head where Nami had violently struck him multiple times when he and Luffy had gotten into a bit-too-rough of a sparring match aboard the ship.

Besides, there were only a few of his crewmates who could truly fight on par with him. Luffy was the best choice, but there was also that stupid dartboard-brow.

Zoro's thoughts languidly drifted in another direction.

_If it's the dartboard-brow, maybe we could do_ that_ again_, Zoro thought, the image of the tall, lean body straddling him, dripping in sweat, entered his mind. The look on the blonde man's face, like nothing in the world mattered at that moment but their desperate battle to climax… At the mere thought, Zoro felt a wave of arousal course through his body.

It seemed like ages ago since it had happened, though. For a day or two afterward, Sanji had seemed a bit uneasy around him, but as Zoro continued to treat him with the same amount of hostility and antagonism that he always had, the cook fell back into old habits. After that, everything had been perfectly normal.

With a heavy sigh, Zoro concluded that it was probably better not to make a habit of it. Sanji wasn't a woman, but he was an idiot, so he had no idea what kind of ridiculous notion the cook might get in his head if they did it again. _And again, and again_, he mused.

Still, some kind of erotic distraction would have been a nice way to rid the tension.

Clearly, he was making no progress in his mind. After some time, the combination of his weary muscles and the warm bathwater began to make him drowsy, and eventually he drifted into a confused, dreamy sleep.

His dream was filled with blonde hair and the smell of cigarette smoke. Strong legs coiled around him, and as they vigorously careened back and forth, their bodies were pulled so tightly together that the swordsman could not even tell who was entering whom. All the while, a low, sultry voice rumbled faint insults in his ear, increasing his excitement. Faster and faster they went, with each thrust seeming more exciting than the last.

Yet at some point, the voice in his ear began to seem a little _too_ vivid. Slightly befuddled, Zoro lost focus on the rhythmic rocking as he struggled to listen more closely to what was being said to him.

"I said, what kind of idiot falls asleep in the bath?" The voice murmured in his ear again, so close that Zoro could feel hot breath. For a moment, the swordsman hung between the state of dreaming and consciousness, but the slightly more pungent smell of smoke fully brought him back to reality.

His eye snapped open, and with a start, he saw that Sanji was sitting next to him in the bath, leaning close, his lips nearly touching his ear.

"Eh, it's a shame you didn't pass out and die," Sanji continued, a smirk that reeked of superiority plastered on face. He took a quick puff from his cigarette as he scooted a short distance away from Zoro.

_He's still a bit close_, Zoro thought hazily. But, groggy or not, he was not about to allow the arrogant cook to make one-sided insults. "Tch, how about what kind of dumbass smokes in the bath?"

"If you can nap in here, I can smoke."

"I'd say that's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard you say, but that's probably not true. You say a lot of stupid things," Zoro replied. "Why the hell are you in here, anyway?"

The mischievous grin on Sanji's face told Zoro that he was probably about to hear something that would piss him off.

"At first, when I saw a stupid marimo was already in here, I was going to leave," Sanji explained, a bit too smugly. "But then I heard it… And, well, how could I not respond to such a pathetic call?"

Zoro clenched his jaw. "What call? What the hell are you talking about?"

"It sounded something like, 'Mmmm, ahh, stupid ero-cook'," Sanji mimicked in an exaggeratedly low, raunchy voice.

"What the hell are you going on about?" Zoro growled, pulling himself into a more upright sitting position.

"'Ahh, right there, faster, faster'," Sanji continued in the same mocking voice.

"Oi, knock it off," Zoro said a bit more angrily, rising to his feet.

"That's what you were murmuring in your sleep." Sanji shrugged, taking another drag. "It was a little disgusting actually." The cook's eyes slowly meandered down the length of Zoro's glistening body.

Suddenly, Zoro realized two things, and he instantly felt a hot flush creep up the back of his neck. First, by standing in the water, his naked body was clearly visible to the cook; not something that, by itself, would have concerned himself too much. But the second thing was a bit more troublesome…

Maybe it was the remnant of the lustful dream, or maybe it was because he was seeing Sanji's naked body, sprawled out in the bathwater, for the first time in awhile; either way, it was impossible to miss that Zoro was aroused by _something_.

"See, you're still thinking about it," Sanji commented as Zoro abruptly sank back into the water.

Zoro scowled, trying with difficulty to avert his gaze from Sanji's body. "Why are you here, anyway? Last time we were in the bath together, you spent the whole time complaining about it."

An inordinately long pause followed. Finally, Sanji responded with a simple mutter… "Idiot marimo."

For some reason, the reply took Zoro somewhat by surprise. He looked over at the cook again, who was leaning back with his arms resting on the edge of the bath tub, his head tilted slightly upward as he held his slightly bent cigarette between two fingers by his mouth. His wet hair covered both of his eyes, so Zoro could not quite tell what kind of expression he was wearing, but he could _feel_ the agitation that emanated from him.

_What the hell is that all about? I'm the one who should be pissed off right now._

Finally, he concluded that he was in no mood to analyze whatever the hell had gotten up the cook's ass. If he was pissed off at something, it's not like it was his responsibility to figure it out and comfort him. The green-haired man turned around and started to stand so he could exit the bath.

"Zoro," Sanji said lowly.

Zoro stopped, feeling like the breath had caught in his throat. The simple pronunciation of his name—never mind that it was his actual name, not one of the assortment of insults that he was usually addressed by—was spoken with such a complex and profound sense of agitation, uncertainty and _longing_, that even he could not fail to miss it.

Hesitantly, Zoro sat back down and turned around. As he met Sanji's unreadable gaze, he momentarily felt the world had suddenly decided to turn in slow motion. For an excruciatingly long moment, the two men stared at each other, seemingly frozen in the confines of time.

And the one to break the confinement was Zoro. As though in utter opposition to the slowed time he had just felt, he moved with unnatural speed to close the gap between himself and the blonde man.

Then he was on top of Sanji, loosely straddling his lap; he paused briefly to take in his position. He firmly clutched the back of the cook's head with one hand, fingers intertwined with wet, blonde hair, while the other hand gripped Sanji's jaw so he could not turn away if he wanted to. Not that it was necessary—as they stared at each other, faces nearly touching, Sanji did not put up even the slightest bit of resistance. Zoro took a haggard breath as he noted just how gratifying the feeling of Sanji's slick skin pressed against his was.

Zoro bent forward and crushed their lips together, a rush of relief instantly surging through his body. He could already feel the other man's arousal, and he shifted the hand that had been gripping Sanji's jaw downward so that he could feel it in his own hand. There was no need to do anything extraneous or unnecessary; he knew all the right places to hit, because those pleasure centers were the same for him.

He only gripped it for a moment, but the moan that accompanied it made Zoro's spine tingle. The rapturous look on the other man's face was almost too much to take in.

The first time he and Sanji had sex, the tension he was feeling was troublesome at most; today, however, the aching need was the result of a vast accumulation of stress and frustration, and the amount was so great, the swordsman simply could not pause or hold back. He needed it so badly that he could not even think as he aggressively took in Sanji's body. It worked just fine that way, though; thoughts were unnecessary when he knew exactly what to do.

And it appeared Sanji knew as well. As much as Zoro often hated to admit it, the cook was a formidable foe. As Zoro touched his body with shameless desperation, Sanji responded in perfect sync with him.

Zoro pinned him back against the side of the bath, strong hands holding his body in place as he pressed his mouth against his slick chest. He was vaguely aware that Sanji seemed to have one arm trapped below the water, but the cook was not attempting to break from his grasp and Zoro was far too focused on more important things to care about the other man's comfort.

There was something strangely exciting about the cook's slender body. Perhaps it was because it felt so much different from his own body, which was ripped and coiled with so many layers of muscles and scar tissue that it was all he could feel. Yet Sanji's muscle tone was considerably slimmer than his. As he traced the faint outlines of them with his fingers and tongue, he could still make out his slim frame underneath.

Unconsciously, Zoro found himself tracing those places. His well-defined collarbone. The edges of his ribs. The line of his hips. As his tongue playfully explored the blonde man's body, his hand began to stray toward that organ that was desperately craving to be touched. As his fingers drew nearer to it, however, Sanji suddenly sprung into action to take the lead.

Now Zoro found himself pinned in place, his own back pressed against the side of the bath. Zoro looked up at Sanji, and the cook smiled at him, a sort of predatory smile that made his heart begin to beat into overdrive.

Then he felt something amazing. As he cried out, he could no longer stay focused on any of the little details around him. All he could feel was hands. Incredible hands.

Though he was intrigued by Sanji's body, it was those hands that held the most wonder for him. They were perfectly smooth, delicately soft like those of a woman, yet with a manly, vice-like grip accompanied by that knowledge of just where and how to make _it _feel best.

_How the hell does a pirate have hands like that, anyway?_ All Zoro could surmise was that maybe it was the result of engaging in combat that never involved using his hands; whatever the reason, he certainly was not capable of thinking about it at that moment.

In fact, the most Zoro could reason was that he better not let the other man continue at this pace. He reached up and aggressively pulled Sanji's head down toward his to pull him into a desperate kiss.

Peculiarly, he reveled in that smoky, ashy flavor. The taste of cigarettes would have normally seemed distasteful to him, but the aroma of smoke was so permanently engrained in his image of the cook, it only seemed to strengthen his excitement. With a free hand, he reached around Sanji, feeling the fervent need to get him ready as soon as possible.

Sanji smiled slightly, his cheeks faintly tinged pink. "Ah, it's okay," he said, a bit hesitant. "I was already getting myself ready."

The green-haired man paused for the briefest moment to study him, one eyebrow raised. He recalled the hand strangely kept underneath the water when Zoro had been pinning him down. "I guess I should expect nothing less from an ero-cook."

Sanji glared at him; however, instead of making his comeback with words, the cook sharply grabbed Zoro's aching member and slid his body on top of it.

"_Shit!_" Zoro shouted, followed by a string of other loud syllables that did not quite form intelligible words. He was not expecting the other man to act so quickly.

His brain had officially turned off. Every word and movement was completely instinct- and sensation-drive.

But he knew he could not keep it up for long. After all, if he did that, Sanji would definitely get the upper hand, and he could not have that. Fortunately, Zoro probably knew the pleasurable spots on the other man's body even better than Sanji did himself. He knew how to hit every receptive place without a single wasted movement.

Clenching rough hands on Sanji's strong shoulders, he grinded his body against his with great intensity. Instead of the loud moan he was expecting, a nearly silent gasp escaped from the cook's throat, as though the sensation had knocked the wind out of him.

Zoro grinned. "I see you didn't argue about what position to get in today," he commented.

"I figured I should let you go first in case you couldn't get it up a second time," he replied, not missing a beat.

"Tch, you should probably be more worried about yourself than about me," Zoro said, fiercely grabbing Sanji by his cock, attempting to hide his excitement over the prospect of doing it multiple times.

Mercilessly, he pumped the engorgement as he simultaneously thrust in _just_ the right position to elicit the maximum amount of pleasure from the cook. He knew all the spots that would drive him to the brink; they were the same spots he was itching to have hit, again and again, until all of his tension finally unwound.

Sanji panted heavily in his ear. Zoro stole a quick glance at his expression; even with his hair wet from the bath, he could tell there were newly forming drops of sweat beading down his forehead. His face was surprisingly flushed—probably the combination of the warm bathwater and their feverishly hot bodies.

A moan, a shout, and then a single word whispered in his ear.

"_Zoro_."

It was a chilling, lustful pronunciation of his name that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his heart beat erratically. It also made him feel so _close_ that he could hardly find his breath.

But he was not ready to give up yet. Using every last trace of willpower he could muster, he held himself back, crazily close to climax for what felt like an eternity. But just like when he somehow found the strength to keep his sword drawn when he was wounded so badly he should not have been able to stand, he somehow held on.

Really, Sanji looked like he was in far worse shape than he was. The blonde man's strained expression was utterly unreserved, and Zoro felt a strange sense of marvel that the irritable man could make such a face.

The expression became more strained, and suddenly Zoro felt fingernails roughly dig into his back. "Ahh, you idiot… sh-shitty… _Zoro_!" Sanji cried out, so loudly that the sound noisily echoed off of the hollow walls of the bathroom.

_Dammit, stop saying my name like that, you stupid ero-cook_, Zoro thought, but he was already over the edge. In fact, his mind was in such a blur from the sensation around him that he failed to notice that other man had already released his load onto him just before he reached the peak of his own climax.

Zoro's cry did not rival Sanji's in volume, but it left him feeling senseless for several seconds, as he leaned back against the side of the tub, unthinkingly clutching Sanji's body against his as he tried to put together a coherent thought in the sea of euphoria swimming around in his head.

"Dammit," Sanji muttered in Zoro's ear, his chin resting on the green-haired man's shoulder. "Can't believe you held on that long."

Zoro knew he should have probably retorted with a jab to rub in the defeat that Sanji was admitting to, albeit in a rather roundabout way, but he honestly could barely _think_ at the moment, let alone form intelligible words.

He wasn't sure how long it took him to reach that point, either.

"Oi… I get that you need a second, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to sit here and spoon with you until you're ready," Sanji noted with artificial irritability.

Blinking, Zoro realized one arm was still clutching the cook's side tightly. "What, are you too weak to pull away yourself?" he muttered, pleased that the sentence formed the way he expected it to. He released his grip, half-shoving the cook away with a noisy splash.

The splash of the water made a certain thought come to mind. He was not particularly panicked about it, but the idea did make him feel the slightest twinge of worry in the pit of his stomach.

"Say, do you think anybody might've tried to come in just now?"

Sanji, now leaning back, shook his head negatively. "I locked the door."

Zoro nodded for a moment, but as he considered it, he suddenly sat upright and looked at the cook a bit incredulously. "Wait, why the hell _did_ you do that?"

A complicated expression crossed Sanji's face, which told Zoro the other man had said a bit more than he intended.

"Well?" Zoro asked impatiently.

Sanji shrugged in defeat. "Ehh, I locked it when I overhead you mumbling about me."

Zoro narrowed his eye at him, but he was inwardly pleased that Sanji had decided to give in so easily. He wanted to badger him about it a little bit longer, but it _had_ worked in his favor that Sanji had responded that way, so he decided that just once, he would let it go.

"We should probably get out of here now, though," Sanji continued. "It's unlikely anyone will come here, but if they do, they'll wonder why it's locked."

"You scream so loud, they've probably already figured it out anyway," Zoro commented.

"Liar, I'm sure I wasn't," Sanji denied. "Besides, you were pretty loud, too."

Zoro shook his head. "I wasn't even close to being as loud as you. You're too noisy for your own good."

Sanji glared at him, but before he could open his mouth again, his snappy retort was cut off.

"I'm getting out of here," Zoro announced, abruptly standing and trying to ignore the slightly unsteady feeling in his knees as he pulled himself out of the bath.

Wordlessly, Sanji followed, pausing for a moment to pull the lever that would drain the water.

"Oi, why are you doing that?"

Sanji looked at him incredulously. "I don't know about you, but I'd be pretty pissed off if I found out I'd been bathing in your sperm."

"But isn't that what you just di-"

"It's a different situation!" Sanji barked. "Anyway, I'll come back later and fill it."

"It may be a _lot_ later," Zoro warned, reaching for a towel.

Sanji raised an eyebrow at him. "Oi, that sounds threatening."

Zoro grinned as he carelessly yanked a white shirt over his head. "Then maybe you should take it that way," he commented.

Sanji studied him for a moment, his eyes locked on the swordsman as he absent-mindedly patted his body dry. Drawn in by the intense yet unreadable gaze, before Zoro knew what he was doing, he had stepped up to the blonde haired man, yanked his still-naked body toward him, and pulled him into a fierce and unintentionally longing kiss.

Both men pulled away from each other panting. Zoro felt the same rush of arousal flood through his body that he had felt earlier, although this time it was a bit less desperate. Perhaps now, he could enjoy the attack a little bit more.

With an expression that was somewhere between a scowl and a smirk, Sanji nodded his head. "Alright, alright, I'll hurry," he muttered, flippantly waving his hand at the swordsman.

Sanji grabbed his clothes, but before he made any move to put even a single article on, he clumsily dug around in his pockets until he retrieved a half-crushed cigarette.

Zoro stared at him in disbelief.

Noticing the gaze, Sanji looked at him questioningly as he lit the cigarette. "What?"

"Idiot ero-cook, put your damn clothes on before you do that."

"You're the one who's rushing me, shitty swordsman," Sanji glared, pulling up his pants with obvious irritation.

_Ah, that's more like it_, Zoro thought. It was easier to deal with being insulted than hearing that captivating articulation of his name.

"That's because you're so damn slow, stupid dartboard-brow," Zoro responded.

"Just hold on a damn minute, you shitty marimo," Sanji grumbled, his cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. The green-haired man could not help but stare at those lips as he spoke.

Suddenly, a devilish grin spread over Zoro's face. As the cook turned his back to him to grab his shirt, Zoro leaned over until his lips were next to Sanji's ears. "I want you to hurry up and put those clothes on so I can take them off again... _Sanji_," he murmured, pronouncing the final word as nothing but an alluring, throaty whisper.

The shudder that followed was exactly what the swordsman was hoping for. A bit victoriously, Zoro turned on his heel and headed toward the door. To his amusement, he could hear Sanji frantically try to pull on his remaining clothes as he hurried to rush after him.


End file.
